01.23.13

Ink

Every day

I bare my soul

With paper I blot

the blood of pain

from my heart--

Throbs are blue

with rhythmic sound

sweet bitter life

Bare lips suckle the pen tops,

I chew...

Brain enthused 

with transparent muse

I have chosen words...

The scribble sings

till my fingers are numb--

Even on the loo

the words come

But first the feeling,

the urge to screw

the world with a pen nib

All else abandoned,

I have chosen ink.

No

I am not 

on the brink

of hope

I only stand

on the spit white cliff

of insanity...

-Jean Goulbourne

Sometimes audible words do not flow from the lips as easily as we would hope.

Sometimes we stutter and trip, syllables seemingly impossible, when we attempt to portray our emotions and opinions through vocal means.

Sometimes the one we try to speak to just takes our breath away, and words are just lost, or stranded, on the tip of the tongue.

Why do we slip up on conversations that mean so much to us?

Why can we not just say what we need to say, without holding back?

Without allowing our doubts to take over?

Resolution #023: When words escape you, your vocal cords all tied up in knots, pick up a pen. Allow your emotions to pour out on a page, the words unsaid, expressed on paper. Sort through the muck that is your mind. Or, even more so, your heart. Find the courage to say what you need to say, even if you, yourself, is silent. Write.